


golden hour

by padme_skywalker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: 21 questions is involved?, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Soft!Mando, literally just mando being lovesick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padme_skywalker/pseuds/padme_skywalker
Summary: Din Djarin wanted to kiss you. The thought of it was all-consuming. It’s funny that the only thing he’s ever allowed himself to want in his entire life is the one thing that he is bound by a creed to never be able to have.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 15
Kudos: 245





	golden hour

“What’s your favorite color?”

The two of you lay on a grassy hillside on some random planet Mando had stopped at to refuel and for the three of you to stretch your legs. The child was dozing off to the side after spending the entire day waddling in the field and splashing in the stream you had found and chasing after frogs.

“Red,” Mando answered.

You were laying on your side, arm tucked underneath your head to keep the grass from tickling your face, watching him with curious eyes. The two of you had somehow fallen into a game of 21 questions and he reluctantly admitted to himself that he was having fun. It was nice, being able to lay here, the evening sun warming his beskar, as he listened to you talk. He didn’t know how you were able to talk so much at one time, taking the simplest questions he asked and answering them as if he asked you how the universe was made or how hyperdrives worked.

It was new to him- the whole not always being in silence thing. Not too long ago he would go weeks without hearing another being’s voice, just sitting in the Razor Crest with only his thoughts to keep him company. It was hard for him at first. It took him at least a month to be able to talk to you about something not related to the child or the ship. But your voice was smooth and sweet like the frozen cream treats he remembers loving as a child and he would listen to you talk about bantha dung if it meant he could hear your lilting accent and the breathy way you would trail off after talking for too long at one time.

“Really? Why?”

Mando glanced at you from the side of his visor. “It reminds me of the blood of my enemies,” he replied, his voice monotone.

Your eyes widened in shock before you threw your head back and laughed. Rolling on your back, you tried to quiet your giggles to keep from waking the baby. “Your jokes are getting better, Mando. Maybe once this whole bounty hunter thing gets to be too boring you can pursue stand-up comedy.”

You couldn’t tell, but he was positively beaming under the helmet, something in his chest warm at being able to make you laugh. He wished he could hear it without the filter of his helmet. He bet it sounds even sweeter.

“Okay, your turn, ask me one.”

Mando looked back up at the sky. “Do you speak anything besides Basic?”

One corner of your mouth turned into a small frown. “No, I’m lucky that the family you saved me from were nice enough to even teach me Basic. I’ve always wanted to learn another, though.” You sat up, turning the top half of your body to him. “Oooh, could you teach me Mando’a? I always hear you speaking in it to the baby.”

He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. Your frown had quickly turned back into a small smile and your eyes were wide with hopefulness. He wanted to tell you yes. He would learn any language in the galaxy just so he could teach it to you. “We’re not… We’re not really supposed to use it with people outside of the covert.” His heart clenched at the sight of your face falling.

You sighed and flopped back onto the ground. “I get that. Can you at least tell me what it is that you always call the baby, though? Ad’ika? What does that mean?”

He was quiet for a moment. “It’s what we call our children,” he said, deciding that the one word would be fine for you to know.

You hummed in response, eyes slipping shut. “That’s sweet. What is it that you always call me when you talk to him?” His face burns under the helmet. He uses a lot of names for you to the child. _Mesh’la. Cyare. Cyar’ika._ “Buir? I think that’s how you say it.”

Parent. _Mother._ “I… It’s just a nickname.” He clears his throat, not wanting to think about how much of a line that crosses. “You’re using all your questions up at once.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Mando turns his head to look at you again. He could hardly believe the way you glowed in the light of the setting sun. Your hair was fanned out around you, the light reflecting off of it and bringing out undertones that never show in the dim light of the Crest. It vaguely reminded him of the vibrant loom weavings the three of you had seen the local artisans working on early that day when you were in the market- but ten times more beautiful. Mortal hands could never create something as utterly divine as you were in that very moment.

Your brows furrowed slightly and you chewed on your lip. “Have you—” You cut yourself off. “Never mind.”

“Have I what?”

Your fingers twisted around a blade of grass. “Have you ever kissed someone?”

He nearly choked.

You turned your head toward him, cheeks tinted pink. “Sorry, that was a weird question. Don’t answer that.”

He couldn’t look at you when he answered. There was no doubt his face was even redder than yours. “No. I- I haven’t been without my helmet in front of others since I was a child.”

“Oh.” Silence fell between the two of you. “Have you ever wanted to?”

He should steer the conversation in a different direction. It was his turn to ask a question, anyway. He should ask you what your favorite animal is. Or what ship you would buy if you had unlimited credits. Or if— “Yes.”

He could still feel your gaze burning into him. He didn’t know if it was your eyes or maybe the sun or maybe he wasn’t really on this planet at all and he had somehow fallen in the Armorer’s forge because he felt like his beskar was melting right off his body.

“Anyone in particular?”

 _You,_ he thought. He would never say it, though. He knew that what the two of you had now was too good to ever mess up and his beskar may be hard but his heart had gone so damn soft ever since you first walked onto his ship and the mere _thought_ of you rejecting him hurt worse than any physical injury he had ever sustained in his entire life.

But oh, did he think about kissing you.

He thought about it every time you walked in to a room. He thought about it every time you came up to the cockpit and sat a plate of food down beside him before going back down to be with the child. He thought about it the time the two of you decided to give the child a bath in a spare bucket since the sink was too small and you both were soaked head to toe from the child’s splashing and the only sounds in the galaxy were you laughing and the child squealing and you brought your hands up to wipe the bubbles off of his visor before you sent an armful of water his way and you made him laugh harder than he had in his entire life. He thought about it when he watched you work on the ship with grease smeared on your face and your brows furrowed and your tongue jutting out slightly while you concentrated. He thought about it when he turned his chair around to find you sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat, mouth slightly open and softly snoring.

He thought about it when he watched your eyes light up at the sight of something pretty at one of the marketplaces and then again when he presented it to you late at night once the child had gone to sleep and it was just the two of you and you _hugged_ him and he didn’t hug you back but you both knew he would one day. He thought about it when he watched you take care of the child. He thought about it when he thought of his parents and how his father would always take his mother in his arms and kiss her and spin her around and dance with her and he thought about it when he told you what happened on that terrible day he lost them and you held him and cried and told him that you would burn down the entire galaxy before you ever let him feel pain like that ever again. He thought about it when the two of you got caught in a rain storm and you laughed the entire time you ran back to the ship and didn’t stop laughing as you stood under the dim lights, chest heaving and hair stuck to your face and you were so beautiful and that was the one time he sincerely thought about giving up the Creed because in his mind kissing you just once would be worth it.

He thought nearly every day about finding a loophole in the Creed. Turning the lights off. Blindfolding you. Asking you to close your eyes. He would trust you to not open them.

It’s funny that the only thing he’s ever allowed himself to want in his entire life is the one thing that he is bound by a creed to never be able to have.

So, yes, Din Djarin thought about kissing you quite often.

He could’ve told you all of this. But instead, he whispered, “Does it matter?” It was so soft that the vocoder barely picked it up.

You smiled, but it wasn’t like your normal smiles. It was sad and dejected and not like you at all. “No, I guess it doesn't.”

The sky was fading from golds and oranges and pinks to dusky blues and purples. The child was still asleep beside you and Mando wasn’t sure what kind of creatures came out on this planet at night and knew that he would have to guide you back to the ship soon.

The silence between the two of you was deafening and the few inches between your bodies felt like an entire parsec. Something cold began to clutch at his heart. He wanted to do it. He wanted to take his helmet off and hover over you and hold your face in his hands and finally just—

You scooted closer to him then, propping yourself up on one arm and leaning over him. You looked into the T of his visor and he wondered if you could see his eyes because it sure felt like you were staring into his soul at that moment.

His breath halted in his chest as you slowly inched your face toward his. Could you hear how hard his heart was beating?

He was frozen in place as he watched your eyes close and you pressed your lips to the hard beskar of his helmet right where his mouth would be and then he was on _fire._ He swore he could feel his lips tingling as if the helmet wasn’t there and your soft pink lips were on his. He was blushing, he could feel it as it traveled from his face down his neck to his chest. His entire body was tingling and numb at the same time and he felt hot and cold and _Maker, is this what a heart attack feels like?_ Was he having a heart attack? You hadn’t even actually touched him.

The kiss only lasted a second before you pulled back and rested your forehead against his. When you smiled he felt the last bit of iciness in his heart melt away, leaving only warmth and happiness and love for this wild, beautiful creature in front of him.

“There,” you whispered. “Now you can’t say that you’ve never kissed someone.”

And then you were moving away from him, picking up the child and cradling him to your chest as you walked down the hill and through the field, taking every bit of his soul with you.

Din lay there on the hill for a moment longer. He was sure then that if he never took his helmet off for the rest of his life he would still die happy knowing that in some weird way he had kissed you and that was enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, this is the first fan fiction that I have written in YEARS and the first the I've ever posted to ao3. I've been working on a Poe Dameron/Reader fic that I plan on posting soon but I got this idea in my head and just had to write it. This was originally supposed to be like 500 words but writing from Din's perspective was super sweet and I love soft!mando and I just couldn't help myself.
> 
> i finally made a new tumblr: mandalorianspace.tumblr.com


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